Текст книги "Snow Wolf"

Автор книги: Glenn Meade

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Eisenhower waited silently until Wallace had finished. There was a frustrated look on the President's face, then he read quickly through the file himself. When he had finished he closed it with a heavy sigh.

"It seems like we've landed ourselves one big mess, haven't we?"

"It's pretty bad, sir," Dulles agreed.

Eisenhower sat down and said.quickly, "OK, first things first. Has the team gone yet?"

"No, sir."

Eisenhower sighed. "Thank God for that. If there's one thing I've learned, it's when you're in a hole you stop digging. At this stage, we can't be absolutely certain Moscow will know exactly what's going on, but if there's a risk of that, then the obvious answer is for us to abort the whole operation. It's a , damned pity. The way things are going with us and Moscow I had hoped your people stood a chance, however slim." Dulles went to speak again but Eisenhower put up a hand. "Let me worry about the Soviets if they do start making noises, diplomatically, about this man Akashin. For now, we'll just have to wait and see what develops." He shook his head resignedly. "But God only knows where it's going to lead if you're right. So where's Massey?"

The Assistant Director looked uncomfortable. "Sir, despite what's developed, we know he's flown to Finland for the final stage of the mission, but we don't know exactly where in Finland he is."

Eisenhower stared over at Dulles. "I thought you said the operation hasn't started yet?"

"We can really only assume that, Mr. President, because we haven't received the "Go' code. As you know, the operation was entirely run on Massey's discretion. We provided a rough plan, a template if you like, and Massey filled in the details. One of our instructions to Massey was that we receive a signal from him when the operation proceeded to the final and imminent stage, by that I mean just before he was ready to drop his people. It was to give us a chance to cancel the operation if we so wished. So far, that hasn't happened. And considering the fact that Massey hasn't informed us of his problems at the base, we can't be certain he will signal the code."

"Jesus ... this gets worse by the minute."

"There are also several other factors at play that would suggest the operation hasn't yet become active."

"Such as?"

"We believe Massey left Boston the night before last with the two people on a scheduled flight to London, and from there onto Stockholm and Helsinki. Going by the schedule he used, that means he'd have arrived in Helsinki within the last fourteen hours, Washington time. We've had the immigration departments of those countries contacted as a matter of urgency and we've verified that the false passports supplied by our Soviet Division were used. The Finnish authorities also confirm Massey and his team landed in Helsinki yesterday evening. But because of the weather, our belief is that Massey won't carry out the drop until tonight." Eisenhower said quietly, "Then how in hell do we contact him "Like I said, contact was left at his discretion. That's what we agreed. It would distance us if it went wrong. Massey was simply distracted, to get in touch if there were problems, and to call a Washington number with the "Go' code." The Assistant Director swallowed. "Sir, we can only assume he's still intent on going ahead with the plan, for whatever personal reasons he might have."

Is the man dumb or crazy? I thought You said he was one of the best we had?"

"He is the best, said Mr. Dulles he worked with me in Europe during the war and I can attest to that. And I can't imagine what's made him behave so unprofessionally."

The Assistant Director shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Eisenhower stood up. He was angry, his face whiter than ever, the eyes dark and narrow.

"The only chance of success this thing stood was if it remained covert. That's plainly now not the case. From what you've told me, Moscow may already have a hint something's in the wind. If these two people make it onto Soviet soil and they're captured, there's only one outcome for us. And that's @ possible disaster. I think we all know how the Russians would respond once they have the evidence."

Eisenhower looked around. "We're not just talking about a cause for a war, Gentlemen. We're talking about the war. We're talking about a Soviet response that could put us back twenty years. they can march into West Berlin and anywhere else in goddamned Europe on the pretense that it's now a question of necessity or retaliation. We're talking about the greatest potential disaster that could ever hit this country and our Allies."

Dulles looked back at Eisenhower uncertainly. "Mr. President, needless to say, we're doing everything we can to locate Massey. But as you'll appreciate, because our take on the sensitive nature of this situation, we'll need our own people on the ground in Finland. Branigan here has already assembled a team and they're on their way. There's a jet aircraft waiting at Andrews. As soon as he's through here, he'll be on it to connect with his team in Finland. But we'll need your intervention with the US Embassy in Helsinki to ask their complete cooperation as well as that of the Finns, if necessary."

Eisenhower took a deep breath and let it out in a long, worried sigh. "That's valuable time, gentlemen. What happens if you're too late? Where in hell does that leave us?"

"With respect, Mr. President, we can still locate and stop them," said Branigan.

"Then for God'@, sake tell me how?"

"It's a question of timing," Branigan explained. "Most operations into Russia and the Baltic are weather-dependent. If the weather's good, the CIA never drop by air because the Russian radar can easily track our aircraft. The report Massey was shown recommends an air drop for the penetration into the Baltic area and I'm certain that's the way he'll do it. He'll most likely need a local pilot, someone with experience of flying in Russian airspace. We've checked the weather report for the region. It suggests a bad snowstorm moving in from the northeast Baltic area tonight, that's eight P.M. Helsinki time. "That's around the most likely time Massey's people would go, which gives US some leeway. With enough manpower we could find them before that happens. And with the cooperation of the Finns and their air force we could make it impossible for Massey's team to make the crossing. With enough of their aircraft patrolling the area, they could make sure the plane doesn't get anywhere near its destination."

"You mean blow it out of the sky?"

"If necessary."

Eisenhower looked around at each of the three men in turn. The steel that was always just beneath the surface of the friendly blue eyes showed itself immediately.

"Then I don't care how, but I want it done. I want Massey and the others found. Found or stopped any which way you can. Even if it means their deaths. An unpleasant thought, gentlemen. considering they're brave people, but the consequences are far too threatening otherwise. You all understand that?"

The three visitors nodded in turn.

Eisenhower's face was still pale as he looked at his wristwatch to end the meeting. His gaze shifted back to Dulles.

"Make whatever arrangements you have to. Needless to say I want the clamps on this. And I want holy reports until this thing is through. Just make sure you stop them, understood?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. President."

Finland. February 23rd Stanski parked the Volvo along the Helsinki sea front and they took a train the rest of the way into the city. Lights were still on everywhere and they strolled around the old harbor market and the cathedral square for half an hour before finding a small restaurant on the Esplanadi main boulevard.

"The restaurant was warm and bustling and they found an empty table beside the window. Stanski ordered schnapps and Vorvchniack for both of them. They ate silently, and when they had finished they walked back Out along the coast road toward Kaivopuisto. A wind had come up, and it blew in off the frozen sea, bitterly cold.

Stanski stopped and pointed to a bench, his face serious. He lit a cigarette and offered her one as she sat beside him. "How do you feel?"

She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "How should I feel'?'

scared." He saw the tension around the corners of her Mouth.

@"A little, I guess."

@"It's not too late to change your mind."

Stanski looked back toward the city. "The Swedish Embassy is ten minutes' walk from here. You could ask for asylum and I won't stop you. To hell with Massey. I think he'd even understand. I could still go through with this alone."

"Why are you telling me this? Why the sudden concern?"

There was a look like pain on Stanski's face. "You saw what happened to Vassily. And Popov was right about what the KGB do to women agents they arrest. I've seen it myself."

"Tell me."

He glanced away again, "Two years back I was sent to the Baltic to organize a resistance group. One of the partisans I helped train was a girl of nineteen. The KGB caught her when they stormed the forest camps the partisans used. What they did to her doesn't bear telling."

"Did you love her?"

"That hardly matters, does it? Let's just say I repaid the bastard who tortured her. He's lying six feet under."

Anna looked away. Out in the bay she could make out the solid alabastard-colored walls of an island fortress, and the small islands nearby looked like frosted moles on the sea.

"I'm afraid. But not so afraid that I won't go through with it." She looked back at Stanski's face. "What happened at the cabin, the way you reacted, it wasn't just to avenge Vassily, though that was part of it. There was a look in your eyes, it was like you came alive when you faced danger. Don't you ever feel afraid?"

"What's there to be afraid of'? Death comes to us all sooner or later. Maybe when we're faced with it that's the moment we truly define ourselves." He smiled. "It's not the heroes who stay to look trouble in the eye-there's no such thing. The fatalists with nothing to lose."

"Don't you have @anything to lose?"

"Not much."

"Didn't you ever love anyone besides Vaissily? A woman'.@"

"'typical of a woman to ask that question. But what's it got to do with it'."'

She looked at him intently. "Maybe nothing, maybe everything."

@"Tell me what You liked to do most when you lived in Russia as a boy. Tell me about your family."

Slaanski looked away uncomfortably. Anna said "Something bad once happened to your family, didn't it'? Is that why you left Russia'

He said dismissively, "Hardly any of your business. Besides, it's all water under the bridge. A long time to Forget it."

"But that's the point. I don't think you can forget it. I think it's what makes You Angry. living close to death, as if you wish it."

He looked at her defensively. "What is this. mental psycho analysis? Is that something you picked up in New York?"

She realized he was more sensitive than artery, Brad some instinct made her reach across and briefly touch his hand. "You're right, it's none of my business, But what happened to Vassily, I'm truly sorry. He was a good man."

For a long time he didn't speak-, and then he said quietly, "He was one of the finest men I knew. But he's gone now, and nothing can bring him back."

She saw the look of grief flood his face, and he stood Lip as if to kill the emotions Anna said. "Why do you always do that?"

Stanski @frowned. "Do what?"

"Hide your feelings like a typical Russian.. Never let emotions in. But yet you always repay pain with pain. Like Vassily and that partisan (girl. Why?" He said flippantly, "A long story. Remind me to tell you some time."

The wind in the harbor grew harsher. Street lamps flickered along the promenade and behind them a tram trundled past on its metal tracks, electric blue flashes sparking in the darkness overhead.

Anna said, "I don't think you've ever trusted anyone enough to let them get really close, have you, Alex Stanski? Inside you're still that same little boy who had to escape halfway across the world on his own, with no one to rely on but himself."

He didn't reply and Anna looked toward the sea and SUDDENLY shivered.

Stanski said, "What's wrong?"

She put her hands in her coat pockets, a deadness in her voice when she spoke.

"I'm not sure. It's odd, but I have a feeling we're both doomed across that sea. What happened at the cabin is like an omen. And people like you and me, maybe we have too much bad fortune in our pasts to be lucky."

"Then why not forget about it and do as I said?"

"Like you say, maybe like you I've nothing to lose."

They spent the rest of the evening going over the weapons, equipment and the forged papers with Massey in the@kitchen.

He gave them each a Tokarev 7.62 pistol and a spare magazine. He also produced a Na gant 7.62 revolver which had most of the barrel sawn away and a silencer attached. He handed it to Stanski, who checked the weapon before slipping it into his pocket and half smiling at Anna.

"A little something extra just in case the Tokarev jams."

Stanski had three sets of papers; one for an eastern worker named Bodkin, home on leave from a collective farm in Kalinin, another for a Red Army captain named Oleg Petrovsky, on leave from the 17th Arbored Division barracks at Leningrad, the third in the name of Georgi Mazov, a KGB major attached to the 2nd Directorate, Moscow. Anna had another three sets in the same family names, posing as his wife in each case, and there were photos of them together and separately, along with their relationship and past.

The other papers included various regional passes and work cards, all in drab official paper and aged deliberately, the photographs in black and white and officially stamped. When Massey had gone over their aliases and backgrounds again he said, "The papers are the best I've seen and they should pass close scrutiny, but of course there's no guarantee. All I can say, if it's any comfort, is that the forgers are the best in the business and worked damned hard to get them right."

Anna picked up her worn-looking set and examined them. "I don't understand. How can they look so used?"

Massey smiled. "An old trick from the war. The forgers fray them with very fine sandpaper and then tape them under their armpits for a couple of hours. Human sweat has an aging effect on paper. As you can see, it works wonders."

Anna made a face and Massey smiled. "An unpleasant thought, but a simple thing like that may save your life. The KGB might become suspicious of passes printed on fresh paper and if they look closely enough they can sometimes tell if chemicals have been used to age them artificially. Whereas the sweat process is undetectable."

He opened a leather pouch containing several wads of rubles, and gave the largest wad to Stanski. The money was creased and aged and there was a handful of coins each.

"if you need any more rubles you can pick them up at the safe houses between Tallinn and Moscow," he explained to Anna. "Otherwise, if you're searched and found with a large amount of cash, it might arouse suspicion. The weapons and some of the clothes and extra papers, of course, are going to be a problem for the first set of false identities if you're stopped and searched soon after you land. That's the danger time. I'm afraid there's no way of safely hiding everything incriminating on your person, but it's a temporary risk, so you'll just have to play the game as it happens. Bury them somewhere near where you land and retrieve them later if you think it's going to be a problem. OK, let's look at the other equipment."

The jumpsuits were made of heavy green.canvas and contained generous pockets to hold items they would need immediately after landing. A flashlight each and a knife to cut the parachute free if it caught on a tree, and short folding spades to bury their equipment. There were helmets, goggles, gloves, and thermal suits for each of them.

"It's going to be pretty cold up there when you jump, so you'll need the thermals to stop you from freezing to death before you land. Now let's see how well the tailors have done."

He produced two frayed suitcases with their personal belongings and clothes inside, and after he had handed them out Anna went upstairs to try her clothes on.

When she came down ten minutes later her hair was tied back severely with a ribbon. She wore a heavy woollen skirt and a thick white blouse, a woollen scarf and an overcoat that was just the right size.

Stanski had changed and stood there dressed as an Estonian peasant, wearing a tweed cap, an ill-fitting jacket and a baggy corduroy suit that was a little too short in the legs. Anna couldn't help laughing and Stanski said, "What's so funny?"

"You look like the village idiot."

"A fine way to talk to your husband." Massey said, "The clothes and uniforms are all the genuine article, taken from Soviet army defectors or refugees who came over after the war. You should wear the clothes tomorrow, to get used to them. You're happy, Alex?"

"Happy as I can he apart from these trousers."

Massey smiled. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid. Besides, an Estonian laborer is hardly going to be dressed to perfection. Anna, is there anything you want to ask?" She shook her head and Massey said, "Then I guess that's it, except for one last thing."

He took two miniature tin boxes from his pocket, opened their lids and emptied the contents on the table. One box contained only two black capsules. The second contained several dozen blue ones, and both types of capsules were different sizes.

"Pills. Two types. One good, one bad, but both invaluable. As you can see they're different sizes and colors so hopefully you can't get them mixed up."

"What are they for?" Anna asked.

"The blue pill is an amphetamine. It gives you an energy boost to overcome fatigue. Commonly used by special forces and pilots during the war to stave off tiredness." Massey picked up one of the black pills. "And this little baby here is the one you've got to be careful about. It's only to be used in a dire emergency."

"What is it?" Anna asked.

"Cyanide. It kills you in seconds."

It was almost midnight and Stanski lay in the dark, smoking a cigarette, listening to the wind rage outside. He heard the door open and Anna stood there in a cotton nightgown, holding an oil lamp. She said softly, "Can I come in?"

"What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep."

"Come in, close the door."

Her hair was tousled and there was something childlike about her face in the light of the lamp as she came to sit at the end of the bed. He noticed she was trembling and he said, "Are you cold?"

She shook her head. "Just frightened. Maybe I've suddenly realized everything about this is deadly serious. Especially when Massey gave us that pill. Now it's not a game anymore. In the air raid shelters in Moscow during the war, when people were afraid of the bombing, complete strangers used to hold and kiss each other. I once even saw a couple make love."

"it makes sense. A natural instinct to preserve the species when it's under threat. Soldiers got married for the same reason before they went to war."

She bit her lip. "Will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Just hold me. Hold me tightly. It seems like it's been such a long time since someone did that."

He saw it in her face then, a real and terrible fear, and it made her look very young and vulnerable. He realized she was more afraid than he had ever imagined, and his hand touched her cheek as he looked into her eyes and said, "My poor Anna."

Her arms went around his neck and she held him tightly. She moved under the covers beside him, snuggling close for warmth and comfort, and then suddenly for no reason at all she was crying and kissing him fiercely.

"Make love to me."

When he hesitated, she kissed him again, her tongue finding his, and he felt himself reacting, growing hard. Her body trembled as he pulled up her nightgown and slid off her underwear. His hand traced the firm outline of her breasts, his fingers gently squeezing the nipples until they were hard and he took one in his mouth. She was panting as his hand slid over her belly and moved down to the warmth between her legs, his fingers caressing her until she was wet.

Without a word her hand came up and gripped his hardness and when he moved on top she moaned as she guided him inside.

It seemed after that as if they were in a frenzy, their bodies in the grip of some kind of urgent desperation, until finally they both shuddered and spent themselves. And then Anna started to cry again, a deep sobbing that racked her whole body.

"What's wrong, Anna?"

She didn't reply, her eyes full of tears, and then she said, Do you want to know why I'm going back to RUSSIA with YOU?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

She told him, told him everything, and she was still crying when she finished.

Stanski held her close and whispered, "Anna. It's all right, Anna."

He stroked her face but it was a long time before her tears stopped. Then he blew out the lamp and held her gently, wordless in the dark, until she finally fell asleep.

Finland.

February 24th It was just after nine the next morning when Janne Saarinen came in the front door, a cloud of icy wind raging into the cabin before he kicked the door shut with his boot. His face looked blue with cold and he carried two parachutes over his shoulders.

"You slept well?"

"Well enough, considering."

The Finn grinned as he flung the parachutes on the table. "Your chutes. I've repacked them twice just to be certain."

"Nice to know someone cares. Thanks, Janne."

Stanski looked out of the window and saw Anna and Massey out walking on the wooden boardwalk together, their collars up to keep out the biting cold. Saarinen stood behind Stanski and offered him a cigarette.

When he lit their cigarettes, Saarinen nodded out at the boardwalk. "She's quite a looker, your lady-friend. I'd almost risk it just to Lay in with her myself."

Stanski examined the parachutes. "She's a good woman. It's just a pity she has to be a part of this. Going over is never easy and always dangerous."

"Tell me about it."

"Which reminds me. That was a nice show you put on for yesterday's briefing The Finn blew out smoke and grinned. "You didn't believe the bravado, did you'? Didn't think you would."

"There's a Couple of important things you left out. Like the fact that half of the agents parachuted onto Russian soil are caught within forty-eight hours because they injure themselves when they drop, or else the radar picks up the flight. And that most of the boys in the air who bought it during the war weren't shot down by the enemy, but died because of your bad weather."

Saarinen eased himself into a chair. "I've done this particular route maybe half a dozen times and each time it gets more difficult. The Russians are making their air defenses tighter and tighter and the new Mig fighters don't help the likes of' me. I only made it Sound easy for her sake. As for our chances, cloud cover is our one real hope, despite the obvious dangers if the weather turns really nasty, but I can vouch for that little aircraft Out there, mechanically and structurally. If the cloud stays in our favor, I'd almost guarantee you'll at least make the drop. If not ..." Saarinen grinned and shrugged. "We may get blown out of the sky."

"Did anyone ever mention you've got a total disregard for life and death?"

Saarinen laughed. "All the time. It comes from having looked the grim reaper in the eye too many times and found out it's not such a big deal. Before '39 I was studying English at Helsinki University, then the war came and the first time I flew into battle I was bitten by the bug. After that I couldn't get enough jeopardy and excitement. You realize everything else lacks a certain dangerous edge. But after the shooting died down and it was all over, you know you're just living on borrowed time anyway, so you keep sailing close to the wind just for the hell of it. If I'm not mistaken, you have the same look about you yourself'. What was it Kant said "That steely unmistaken look in a man's eyes that tells its tale of war, and death the grim reaper too often faced.'

Stanski smiled. "So what about the radar on the other side?"

"Like I said, if the weather's on our side it shouldn't bother us."

Saarinen shook his head. "It's not all black, just shades of gray. But I told you, I'm lucky. I also speak fluent Russian. So even if their air traffic control calls us up, I can try and bluff' my way through."

"A man of many parts."

Saarinen grinned and tapped his wooden leg. "Not all of them good, I'm afraid."

Helsinki.

The wheels of the US Air Force B-47 Stratojet bit the icy runway with a squeal as they touched down at Helsinki's Maimi airport in a flurry of light hail at exactly 6 P.m. Karl Branigan was exhausted after the long and turbulent flight from NVASHIJIGTON, a journey of almost ten hours and over four thousand miles, an experience he had never before endured and never wished to repeat again.

Twenty minutes later his car drove up into Kaivopuisto Park, the city's diplomatic belt, and came to a halt outside the American Embassy compound. Two immaculately uniformed Marines on the gate checked the passengers before raising the barrier and allowing the car through.

As the Ford drew up at the front entrance to the embassy, a tired-looking Branigan stepped out, turning up his coat collar against the cold. A tall, lean man with tanned skin came out of the double oak doors, an anxious younger official at his side.

"Mr. Branigan'? I'm Douglas Canning," the man said in a Texan drawl as he offered his hand. "My secretary here is already looking after your men, but if you'll come this way, the Ambassador is waiting to meet you."

Branigan grunted a reply and followed Canning as he led the way inside.

The small garden at the front of the embassy compound was deserted in the Baltic darkness. The grim-faced Ambassador stood at the window looking down at the scene. frowning.

He had finished reading the one page letter Branigan had presented him, signed by Alien Dulles, studying it silently before handing it to Canning, his face blank.

Canning finally looked over at the Ambassador. "Sir, would you care to respond?"

The Ambassador looked around. His thinning gray hair was groomed neatly, but the distinguished look on his face was momentarily lost to astonishment as he stared back at his visitor.

"First, let me get this right, Mr. Branigan. You want to locate a certain three people in Finland who are engaged in a covert operation, and apprehend them as a matter of urgency. If apprehension is not possible you want to stop their mission, even if it means their deaths. And you want my help in this."

Branigan's face was drawn and had an unmistakable five o'clock shadow, his limbs still aching and tense after the cramped tlight, and he didn't feel like playing the diplomat.

"That's correct," he said briskly, almost forgetting who he was talking to, and added, "Mr. Ambassador, sir."

"And I'm not permitted to ask what the exact nature of this operation is that these people are intent on carrying out?"

Branigan shook his head and said bluntly, "You read the letter from Mr. Dulles. That's the exact position and all you need to know. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask me any further questions in that regard."

The Ambassador's face registered his annoyance at the disrespect, but he carried on.

"But you're requesting I put my entire embassy staff at your disposal, if necessary, in the pursuance of this matter. You also want my personal intervention at the highest Lebel in Finland, to request that their air force prevent these people leaving Finnish airspace. Shoot them down if they're airborne."

"Correct."

"Mr. Branigan, I would suggest this is all somewhat without precedent."

There was a look of frustration on the Ambassador's face. "So what in damnation is going on here?"

Branigan looked pointedly at his watch. "You'll have to address that question to Mr. Dulles, not me. I've simply got a job to do and quickly. Time's ticking away. So, can I rely on your help?"

The Ambassador came back behind his desk and sat down. "Mr. Branigan, quite frankly, I find this matter not only lacking in protocol, but rather disturbing. What do you think, Canning?"

Canning hesitated. "Everything we've been asked is really rather impractical. Perhaps we ought to contact Mr. Dulles ourselves to discuss this further?"

Branigan shook his head impatiently. "Not possible. My orders say no telephone contact with CIA Headquarters from Helsinki right now. As you've gathered, the nature of this mission is extremely, and I repeat extremely, sensitive and covert."

The Ambassador looked over smugly and made a steeple of his fingers. "Then I'm afraid I'll have to remind you, sir, that your Mr. Dulles is only Acting CIA Director. His official appointment doesn't take place in Washington until later today, and he won't be sworn into office for several more days. For such formidable requests as these, I'll need higher authority, I'm afraid."

Branigan stood up angrily and grabbed the letter from Canning, replaced it in his pocket and glared across at both men.

"Now how about we cut out the shit right here and now. If either of you pair of assholes don't want your balls in the Washington grinder I-suggest you do as the letter says. And another thing, I need a senior liaison man here from the Finnish SUPO. Someone who can be relied on to be completely discreet. And I need every goddamned trustworthy and available man you can spare. And I want to tell you something else for nothing. Either you or they breathe a word about this operation to anyone, and I'll personally see to it the offender gets a bullet in the head."

The Ambassador's face suddenly flushed angry red at the blatant, unseemly threat and disrespect being shown his high office, but Branigan ignored it as the telephone on the desk jangled.

The Ambassador glared over in shock before he grabbed the phone.

"What the hell is it!"

There was a long pause, then the Ambassador went pale as he flicked a switch to activate the scrambler, and the first words Branigan heard the Ambassador say were, "Mr. President, we're doing everything we can."